


i bet these memories follow you around

by MissSugarPlum



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - High School, Canonical Child Abuse, Gen, M/M, Not beta-read, barry allen is a mouthy shit, i am SO SORRY omg, lisa is grudgingly impressed by this, that's right kiddies it's a chaptered fic!, the longest waits between chapters you ever did see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5883538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSugarPlum/pseuds/MissSugarPlum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leighton Burrell, football douche extraordinaire, and a couple of his dim-witted teammate lackeys are pushing around a small underclassman. The boy—because he is just a boy, smaller than any high schooler Lisa’s ever seen, barely up to her shoulders (and it’s not like Lisa towers over her classmates, far from it)—the boy’s face is flushed bright red, either in embarrassment or anger or both, and Lisa can see, out of the corner of her eye, a backpack that matches the burn in the kid’s cheeks, wide open and crushed in the dirt, books and loose papers strewn messily about.</p><p>“What’s that, twerp?” Burrell sneers. “Speak up, I can’t hear you from all the way down there!” Behind him, his goons guffaw boorishly.</p><p>The kid is tiny, obviously hasn’t been hit with the puberty stick yet, Lisa thinks with some amusement, but that apparently doesn’t matter to him, because he puffs up his chest, takes in a deep breath, and says loudly, “The only reason I’m so small is so dicks like you can look big!”</p><p>-x-</p><p>(Wherein Barry can't keep his mouth shut, and Lisa just wants to get through junior year.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. if you can't take the kid from the fight

**Author's Note:**

> It's one am, I've got a ridiculously high fever, and my eyes are starting to cross.
> 
> Perfect time to upload a new fic, amirite?
> 
> This thing has been in the works for a good long while now, but it's all thanks to the fabulous [dragdragdragon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/pseuds/dragdragdragon) uploading her own fantastic, wonderful [high school AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5880820/chapters/13553425) that this is getting posted at all, haha. Way to provide me with inspiration, darling, ily bunches! (Massive thanks to her and also to [trespresh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/trespresh/pseuds/trespresh) and [weekend_conspiracy_theorist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist) \- they are all my biggest cheerleaders and I love them so so dearly, it's insane) <333
> 
> This is by no means a completed fic, and I've got _no idea_ how long it's going to be, but hey, I've got a solid plot and a pretty good idea of how it's going to go, so...
> 
> Buckle up, kiddies, it's gonna be a bumpy ride. B]
> 
> (Title from Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams - don't judge me, okay, you know you love it too)
> 
> (Chapter title from Panic! At The Disco's Camisado)

The first day of school really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

 

Lisa ambles down the hallway aimlessly, mindless of the bodies pushing past her in both directions, not really in a rush to get to her next class, completely unenthusiastic about trigonometry—she had passed algebra two last year by the skin of her teeth and she knows it, and she’s not so eager to start falling behind already.

 

Lisa sighs as she approaches her locker, shouldering past the couple engaged in a heavy lip-locking session right beside her. She takes a moment to breathe, and then another to remember the combination for this locker (why the school assigns different lockers every year, she’ll never know—three years in, and she still automatically uses the very first combination she received as a freshman), and if she slams open the door, crashes it against the locker beside hers with a loud _clang!_ that has the two spit-swapping bimbos breaking apart before glaring and moving away?

 

It’s the crummy highlight to her already-shitty first day of junior year.

 

Her day takes a surprising turn for the better after second period (in which Mrs. Hamilton did nothing but pass out a syllabus for the year, take attendance, and then bark at them to read the introduction in their textbooks while she sat back at her desk, popped a couple of ibuprofen and dropped her newspaper directly over her face), when she goes back to her locker to swap her trig book for her English text, the couple from before thankfully nowhere in sight, and finds a pair of earrings sitting innocently atop the ridiculously high pile of books.

 

The earrings are gold in color but cheap in design, probably one of those ten-dollar pairs from the nearest Wal-Mart or something, but the flowers have little fake diamonds in the middle and they sparkle brilliantly when Lisa picks them up to admire them. She smiles just a little as she puts them on, heart light because she knows who got them for her but heavy because she knows this is the most contact he’ll allow himself with her.

 

She wonders how he managed to sneak into the school, not to mention figuring out which locker was hers, cracking the lock, and leaving shitty earrings for her, all without her noticing.

 

Lisa supposes she’ll always be impressed by the things her big brother does.

 

She smiles at her reflection in the tiny, grubby mirror taped to the inside of her locker door, admiring the earrings more for what they represent than how they actually look (even if they don’t look _too_ gaudy; Lisa can admit that Len’s taste has vastly improved in the last couple of years) before slamming the locker shut with a satisfying _bang_.

 

She turns and starts to head toward her AP Language and Composition class, the one subject she’s actually been looking forward to all day, but she gets no more than a few yards toward the English building before she hears an obnoxious voice say, “What are you gonna do about it, pipsqueak?”

 

Lisa narrows her eyes, adjusts her path without thinking too hard about it, and comes across a scene she automatically detests but is altogether unsurprised by.

 

Leighton Burrell, football douche extraordinaire, and a couple of his dim-witted teammate lackeys are pushing around a small underclassman. The boy—because he is just a boy, smaller than any high schooler Lisa’s ever seen, barely up to her shoulders (and it’s not like Lisa towers over her classmates, far from it)—the boy’s face is flushed bright red, either in embarrassment or anger or both, and Lisa can see, out of the corner of her eye, a backpack that matches the burn in the kid’s cheeks, wide open and crushed in the dirt, books and loose papers strewn messily about.

 

“What’s that, twerp?” Burrell sneers. “Speak up, I can’t hear you from all the way down there!” Behind him, his goons guffaw boorishly.

 

The kid is tiny, obviously hasn’t been hit with the puberty stick yet, Lisa thinks with some amusement, but that apparently doesn’t matter to him, because he puffs up his chest, takes in a deep breath, and says loudly, “The only reason I’m so small is so dicks like you can look big!”

 

Lisa lets out a long peal of laughter, deciding to finally enter the fray, flouncing to the kid’s side just as Burrell takes a threatening step forward, the vein in his forehead looking like it’s about to burst. “Leighton, Leighton Leighton,” she tsks, and she relishes the way Burrell and whatever-their-names-are back up almost instantly. “Is your masculinity so threatened you feel the need to beat up on eight-year-olds?”

 

“I’m not eight,” the kid mutters behind her, petulant, and Lisa shushes him absentmindedly, eyes alert on the assholes in front of her, trying to regain their equilibrium.

 

“Stay out of this, Baby Snart,” Burrell warns, though his eyes flicker around frantically, as if afraid Leonard Snart is going to pop out of the bushes and bash his brains in for even daring to talk to his little sister.

 

Lisa can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, completely unimpressed. “Don’t worry, my brother’s not here,” she says, and the way all three of them sigh in relief is hilarious. “But Lenny’s not the one you have to worry about.” Her fierce grin is all teeth, and the earrings Len got her sparkle alarmingly, the sunlight bouncing off them and reflecting wildly all around them.

 

Burrell tenses again, familiar enough with her brother to recognize when to back the hell off, but apparently Muscled Lackey No. 1 doesn’t have the same sort of survival instinct his pack leader does—Muscles sneers, rolls his shoulders like it’s at all impressive (it’s not), and growls out, “Why don’t you leave, sweetheart, and let us big boys handle the shrimp?”

 

Lisa blinks at him for a solid seventeen seconds, mood tipping firmly from Amusedly Intimidating These Jerks to This Misogynistic Dickwad Is Going _Down_.

 

Burrell and maybe-has-some-brains-after-all Lackey No. 2 take another few hurried steps away from the dangerous glint in Lisa’s eyes, and she sends a caustic, knowing smirk their way before turning all her attention to the prick steadily advancing on her.

 

“I don’t think I recall asking for your opinion, _sweetheart_ ,” Lisa says, tone cloying like poisoned honey—one of the few things she learned from her mother (before she left, a silent sigh on the wind in the night, just like Len’s mother had), honed like a finely-tuned weapon.

 

Muscles flexes said bulges, looking like he’s gearing up for an actual fight.

 

“Get ready, kiddo,” Lisa mutters out of the corner of her mouth to the boy still standing beside her, not taking her eyes off the mass of stupid in front of her, and she hears the kid inhale sharply as he tenses.

 

-x-

 

“My name’s Barry,” the kid says later in the principal’s office, wiping blood out of his eyes with one hand and offering the other to her hesitantly. Lisa takes it, wincing at the pressure on her bruised knuckles even as she appreciates the solid grip the kid—Barry—has.

 

“Lisa,” she says, and she grins even though she knows it will stretch the bruise high on her cheek painfully.

 

“Thanks—for, you know, helping. You didn’t have to do that—most people wouldn’t have.”

 

Lisa frowns at that, brow furrowing deeply at the way his shoulders slump as he speaks, as if he’s been let down and betrayed by the world too many times in his young life. “I think you’ll find I’m not most people, kid.”

 

Barry grins at her, expression clearing almost instantly into something bright and sunny, seemingly unperturbed by the scowl on her face. “I can see that.”

 

The principal opens the door to his office, interrupting whatever else they could have said to each other. “Allen, your foster father is here,” he says wearily. “Snart—” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Your father can’t get away from the precinct, so you’ll just have to wait here until he’s done.”

 

Lisa scowls harder, masking the wince that wants to flinch across her face—she knows her father won’t be pleased about this latest transgression, even more considering he was bothered about it at work. She tries not to think about how he’ll have the entire rest of his shift to let his anger fester before taking it out on her.

 

Before she can even open her mouth to say anything, Barry jumps in unexpectedly. “She could come home with us,” he suggests, and Lisa and Principal Willis both turn to him with matching expressions of incredulity. “Joe—my foster father—Detective West works with Lisa’s dad at the precinct, right? They know each other, at least—so Lisa could come with us, with someone her dad knows, so it would be okay, and she wouldn’t have to stay here until who knows when…” He trails off when neither of them say a word, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. “I mean, it was just a thought…”

 

Principal Willis turns back to Lisa, eyebrows raised as if he’s asking her opinion, and Lisa shrugs nonchalantly, projecting a cool facade even as her heart starts to pound a little harder in her chest. Willis rolls his eyes, too used to Lisa’s attitude over the past two years to be too affected by it by her junior year, and instructs Barry, “If your foster father is okay with it, _and_ if Mr. Snart approves, then fine, she can accompany you. But no more fights like this, d’you hear me?” He points between the two of them, expression firm, and they both nod furiously, faces as innocent as they can make them. Willis snorts and waves a hand dismissively at them. “Allen, go ask your father”—Lisa takes interest in the way Barry’s entire face shuts down at that, lips thinning, eyes blanking almost as well as she’s seen Lenny do, in his worst moments, when he doesn’t want Lisa to see how much he’s hurting—“while I make another call to Mr. Snart, yes?”

 

“Yessir,” Barry mutters sarcastically, but he gets up from his chair readily enough, reaching over to snag Lisa’s hand from its resting place on the arm of her own chair and pulling her out of the office eagerly.

 

The man waiting outside is nothing like Lisa expects, big and broad and dark-skinned, though she doesn’t know why she’s surprised—they had said _foster father_ , after all, didn’t mean he’d be as white as Barry’s lily ass. He only frowns when Barry grins cheerily at him, and the scowl deepens to thunderous proportions as he takes in the way Barry’s clutching at Lisa’s hand.

 

Lisa snatches it back from Barry not a second later, crossing her arms in front of herself and scowling right back, heedless of how defensive the pose makes her look.

 

Barry doesn’t even blink at her behavior, and Lisa’s esteem of him rises a little bit more from its already high standing. “Lisa’s dad’s stuck at work, so I offered to have her come home with us,” he explains. “You know Mr. Snart from the precinct, right?”

 

The man—Detective Joe West—seems to deflate at that, eyes tightening infinitesimally though the look clears from his face in the next second—Lisa wouldn’t have caught it if she wasn’t intimately familiar with looking for the nuances in someone’s brow and lips and eyes. “Yeah, Bar, ’course she can come with us,” he says, and he smiles a little bit helplessly as Barry grins again, jostling Lisa’s crossed arms in just-barely-contained jubilation.

 

Lisa smiles a little bit helplessly too, wondering just who the hell this Barry Allen kid is.

 


	2. and soon enough you're best friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hope you don’t mind watching me get yelled at,” Barry whispers, and Lisa grins a little ruefully.
> 
> “Can’t be any worse than anything I get,” she mumbles back, and her chest twinges a little at the sharp glint in Barry’s eye once he fully registers her words—she certainly had _not_ been meaning to say anything quite so revealing, and she grits her teeth, frustrated with herself.
> 
> This is what she gets for showing a little kindness.
> 
> -x-
> 
> (Wherein Barry braces himself for the fallout, and Lisa finds a surprising sense of camaraderie in this quaint little home.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sick all week, and so had a little more time away from work than I'm used to - enjoy the second chapter as my way of celebrating!
> 
> (Seriously, though, I've been clawing at the walls for like three days now. Being sick sucks; having more time to write is only slightly a consolation.)
> 
> Don't expect every update quite this quickly, is all I'm saying. :P
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Chapter title from Taylor Swift's Fifteen)

Lisa loops her arm through Barry’s on their way to Detective West’s car, knocking their heads together so there’s less chance of them being overheard.

 

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” she says lowly, tone conversational, and Barry smiles at his earlier words parroted back at him.

 

“S’not a big deal,” he says dismissively. “Least I could do, after you stood up for me like that.”

 

Lisa silently disagrees, knowing that without Barry’s intervention, she’d be stuck in that school far past when the final bell would ring, confined to the nurse’s office until her father decided he had let her stew in anxiety and anticipation long enough—and yeah, Ms. Temple is cute, but Lisa’s been tired of her not-so-subtle attempts to get Lisa to open up about her home life since the first time she stepped foot in that office, three days into freshman year. “Still, kid. Thanks.”

 

Barry grins brightly, and the effect is almost blinding with their heads still so close together.

 

“Alright, let’s get goin’,” Detective West rumbles as they reach the big SUV in the parking lot. “Lisa, you want shotgun?”

 

Lisa blinks at him for a long moment, thrown by the sudden question. “The back seat’s fine,” she finally manages, and West shrugs to himself as he opens his own door. Lisa and Barry follow suit, clambering into the giant vehicle and buckling their safety belts.

 

“Joe—” Barry starts.

 

“Not now, mister, you can wait until we get home,” West interrupts, and Barry bites his bottom lip, glancing at Lisa unsurely.

 

Lisa shrugs back at him, settling in for the ride.

 

-x-

 

The house Detective West pulls up to is small but charming, with a comfortable, homey feel to it, and Lisa already likes it more than her own. West exits the car without a word to Barry or Lisa, slamming his door before making his way up the path to the house, and Barry winces and turns apologetic eyes to Lisa.

 

“Sorry about that,” he says as they extract themselves from their own seatbelts. “It’s not about you, don’t worry—I wasn’t supposed to get in any fights this year, I promised Joe, and…” Barry shrugs a little bit, ambling toward the house, and Lisa follows after shutting her own door gently.

 

“You get into a lot of fights back in middle school?” she questions, highly amused at the thought of this tiny boy in a flurry of fistfights—though, she considers, with a mouth like his, it’s more than likely he would find himself dodging punches left and right.

 

“Some.” Barry shrugs, lips pressing into a thin line, and Lisa can recognize the signs of _I don’t want to talk about this anymore_ from a mile away.

 

“Hey, far be it from me to judge, kid, I was just as responsible for that mess as you.”

 

“Can you stop calling me kid?”

 

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Lisa smirks, and Barry just groans at her.

 

“Come on,” he says, rolling his eyes, “might as well face the music, and _maybe_ we can convince Joe to make us lunch.”

 

Lisa’s stomach rumbles a little as she tries not to think about the iced coffee drink she snagged from the gas station this morning on her way to school, the only thing she’s ingested in the last twenty-four hours, and she follows Barry up the steps to his house with a growing sense of anticipation.

 

Good or bad, she can’t really say.

 

The house is awash with the sizzling sounds of food cooking in the kitchen, and Lisa follows Barry’s lead, toeing off her shoes in the entryway before trailing after him to the dining room table, taking the seat next to him instead of the one across the table he gestures at hesitantly. Barry grins at her, a little bashful as he fiddles with the straps of his backpack, bright red muted from the dust and dirt ground into it, and wow, is this endearing kid really the same short stack who called a bunch of high school football seniors dicks?

 

“I hope you don’t mind watching me get yelled at,” Barry whispers, and Lisa grins a little ruefully.

 

“Can’t be any worse than anything I get,” she mumbles back, and her chest twinges a little at the sharp glint in Barry’s eye once he fully registers her words—she certainly had _not_ been meaning to say anything quite so revealing, and she grits her teeth, frustrated with herself.

 

This is what she gets for showing a little kindness.

 

Detective West calls out a moment later, voice carrying easily through to them. “Lisa, could you come in here for a moment, please?”

 

Lisa tenses involuntarily, and her eyes flicker to Barry’s briefly, questioning. Barry says nothing, only gives her an encouraging nod, so with mounting nerves, Lisa pushes her chair back from the table, wincing at the dull scrape of wood on wood, and slowly, hesitantly, makes her way into the kitchen.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Detective Joe West, shirtsleeves rolled up haphazardly, grins at Lisa as he flips something in a pan over the stove. “That’s for you,” he says, gesturing with his chin, and Lisa tracks the path of his gaze, blinking at the lumpy dishtowel on the counter. “For your knuckles,” he continues when she doesn’t move, and Lisa clenches her fist at the reminder, wincing slightly at the pain the motion causes.

 

“Thanks,” she murmurs, completely nonplussed, and she reaches for the wrapped-up ice pack, placing it gingerly on the back of her hand with a hiss at the temperature under West’s expectant eye.

 

West hums, seemingly satisfied, and turns back to the stovetop. “Sorry Barry dragged you into all this.”

 

“It’s fine,” Lisa says. She shakes her head in the next instant, lips twisting into a mockery of a grin. “Pretty sure it was good for those jackasses, being told off by someone less than half their size.”

 

West snorts out a laugh. “I’ll bet. Though, way I was told, you did your fair share of crackin’ skulls too.” He glances at her from the corner of his eye, brows raised, considering. “Barry prob’ly would’ve been beaten up a hell of a lot more if you weren’t there, you know.”

 

“I know.” Lisa shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t…” She clears her throat, wishes she were anywhere but in this kitchen, under this man’s keen, watchful eye. Thinks again of what will be waiting for her at home later, and takes the thought back, resisting the urge to shudder. “I don’t like bullies,” she finishes lamely, and West nods like he expected to hear that.

 

“Take after your brother, don’t you?” he says, and when Lisa doesn’t answer, he chuckles, elaborates: “Can’t tell you how many times your old man came into work, in a snit because little Lenny got into another fight with a bully twice his size. Caused more than one or two grey hairs on that balding head of his.”

 

West’s eyes twinkle mischievously as he looks back at her again, and Lisa can’t help the small smile, though she tries to keep the bitterness from her expression.

 

 _Too bad the grief of it didn’t kill him_ , she thinks but doesn’t say.

 

“Yeah, Len… he taught me a lot,” Lisa says, swallowing roughly at the pain of Len’s absence.

 

“Like how to throw a mean left hook?”

 

Lisa laughs in surprise, shifting the ice pack on her knuckles slightly. “Yeah, that too.”

 

West’s grin lingers a few beats longer, and he shakes his head a little bit as he turns his attention back to the stovetop once more. “Lunch’ll be ready in just a few,” he says kindly, a clear dismissal. “Hope you like grilled cheese.”

 

Lisa pads out to the dining room, reclaiming her seat next to Barry, who has tried to shuffle the mess of his backpack into some semblance of order. “Your hand okay?” he asks distractedly, pulling a pen from his backpack and gesturing with it to the towel covering the back of her hand.

 

“Yeah, kid, it’s fine,” Lisa says, smirking a little at the way Barry huffs at her for the continued nickname. “I’d be alright with a lot worse if it meant that those douchebags left us alone from now on.”

 

“‘Us,’ huh?” Barry asks musingly, and Lisa realizes with a start that she’s already subconsciously included this kid in her hard-learned me-against-the-world mentality.

 

“What can I say,” she says breezily, attempting a nonchalance she doesn’t really feel. “Seems you’ve got a death wish, smartass mouth like that. Figure the least I can do is make sure you don’t get pulverized for it.”

 

Barry harrumphs at her, grinning slightly. “’M not gonna be small forever.”

 

“Sure you’re not, kid. What are you, four-foot-zilch?”

 

Barry scowls a little; Lisa’s obviously hit a sore spot. “I just haven’t hit a growth spurt yet,” he grumps, and Lisa chuckles at him.

 

“If you haven’t by now, I wouldn’t really hold out much hope,” she teases.

 

“I’m only thirteen!” Barry protests, and he laughs like he can’t help it.

 

Lisa pauses just a little, head tilting to the side in confusion, because what? But West bustles into the dining room, holding a large plate stacked full of grilled cheese sandwiches, and the painful growling of her stomach distracts her from what she had been about to say.

 

“Eat up, guys,” West rumbles, and Lisa hesitates, only selecting a sandwich of her own after Barry eagerly snatches one off the plate.

 

“’Fanks, Joe,” Barry mumbles through a bite of greasy bread and cheese, and Lisa echoes him quietly with a faint, “Thank you, Detective.”

 

West waves impatiently at the formality. “Call me Joe,” he insists, reaching for a sandwich himself, and Lisa nods hesitantly, deciding to focus more on the food in front of her than the strange kindness of the man across from her.

 

She doesn’t quite know what to make of Detective Joe West, but one thing’s for sure—the man can make a _mean_ grilled cheese.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Barry's perspective next - he's demanding a chance to speak, too. <3)


	3. people throw rocks at things that shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is it true?” Iris demands, and then continues without waiting for an answer: “Did you _really_ get in a fight with a bunch of seniors on your _first day_? And you got _suspended_?”
> 
> Barry sighs, slumping back against the headboard. “Yup,” he says, rubbing at the butterfly bandages above his eyebrow. Iris whistles lowly, looking impressed.
> 
> “I bet Dad is _so pissed_ ,” she says with a laugh in her voice, and Barry glares at her good humor, sticking his tongue out in response.
> 
> -x-
> 
> (Wherein Lisa witnesses some normal family dynamics, and Iris more or less conscripts her into Barry-sitting.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, SO. When I said, at the beginning of the last chapter, to not expect updates super quick? _This is not what I meant._
> 
> But, on an entirely ~~un~~ related note, did you know that babies are very high maintenance? Because I do. I know that _intimately_.
> 
> I don't even think there's words to describe the amount of apologies I need to go through on how long this took. Just, enjoy some high school babies and Iris, will you? <3
> 
> (Chapter title from Taylor Swift's Ours)

“So.”

 

Barry cringes at the single syllable, doing his best to avoid the disappointment he just _knows_ is present on Joe’s face. He pushes the plate, now completely devoid of grilled cheesy goodness, further away from his place setting, focusing almost entirely on the faint scraping sound of it dragging against the wood of the table.

 

Joe sighs, and it sounds more tired than anything else, something that shoots a sharp spark of guilt through Barry’s stomach. “We talked about this, Barry. _Extensively_.”

 

Barry nods jerkily, still refusing to look up. Next to him, Lisa shifts uncomfortably, though when he peeks up to gauge her expression, her eyes are keen and interested as well as sympathetic.

 

“No more fights, we said,” Joe continues. “No more fights, and then you could skip up into high school. And I _know_ you know I had to pull some major strings with the school district to let you skip eighth grade, so _this_ , Barry? A scuffle like this, involving _four_ other kids, a trip to the principal’s office _and_ the nurse’s office, not to mention a _two-day_ suspension, all on the _first day_? It is _not_ lookin’ good for you, pal.”

 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Barry protests hotly, indignant. It’s not like he goes out _looking_ for trouble; he certainly didn’t ask those jerks to start harassing him for no reason.

 

“You broke one of their noses,” Joe says flatly, unimpressed.

 

“ _You_ taught me how to do that,” Barry mutters petulantly, unable to help himself, and Lisa lets out a sharp bark of most-likely-involuntary laughter.

 

Joe snorts quietly, letting his shoulders drop as he shakes his head wearily. “What am I going to do with you,” he grumbles, but Barry’s heard that tone of voice often enough that he’s not so worried anymore by Joe’s words, can hear the exasperated fondness he’s so good at eliciting from his foster father.

 

“…Teach me how not to get caught?” he suggests with a cautious smile, and it morphs into a much less timid grin when Joe laughs helplessly again.

 

“Upstairs, you rugrat.” Joe shoos him away from the table, mouth still pulled up on one side with fatherly-like affection. “Go do whatever homework you managed to get from your first two classes—I’ll call the school later and see if we can’t get any assignments from the classes you’re missing now.”

 

Barry sucks in a huge breath and peeks up at him, hardly daring to hope. “You mean I’m not in trouble?”

 

“Oh no, you’re still in trouble,” Joe warns. “No TV for a month—”

 

“What!”

 

“— _and_ you get to be Iris’s punching bag when we do more defense lessons this weekend.”

 

“Joe! That’s not even fair!” Barry’s been punched by Iris before, more than a few times (and, admittedly, deserving of most of them). Her punches _hurt_. He’s pretty sure he’s still got bruises from the last time.

 

Joe raises an eyebrow, face impassive. “I _could_ make you apologize to each of those boys you sent to the nurse today, _and_ send apology letters to their parents,” he threatens mildly, and Barry can _feel_ the blood drain from his face.

 

“No,” Barry says hurriedly, shaking his head so hard Joe’s visage doubles in front of him, “nope, that’s okay, punching bag for Iris, totally cool with that, yes _sir_.”

 

“That’s what I thought.” Joe’s mouth stays flat, but his eyes glimmer with a faint spark of amusement. “Now go, scram while I make some phone calls.”

 

“’Kay,” Barry says, quickly packing up his backpack before Joe can change his mind. He tugs at the sleeve covering Lisa’s arm, provoking a half-hearted glare from the silent girl. “Come on, we can go up to my room.”

 

“No funny business,” Joe warns them as the two of them scurry away from the table and towards the staircase. “That door stays open, y’hear me?”

 

Lisa scoffs, rolling her eyes, and Barry wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Ew,” he complains. “Don’t be gross, Joe.”

 

Joe chuckles behind them. “I love you, kid.”

 

“Love you too!” Barry calls over his shoulder, scrambling up the stairs. Lisa follows, still taciturn, eyes flicking between Barry and his foster father with something akin to bewilderment in her expression.

 

-x-

 

“So, uh, this is my room,” Barry says, awkwardly scratching the back of his head with one hand as he gestures with his other. “Um… sorry about the mess.”

 

Lisa casts her gaze around, and Barry notices the way her eyes linger on the mess of clothes around his laundry hamper, the teetering pile of books on his nightstand next to a mostly-empty glass of water, the haphazard clutter of notebooks and loose papers spread across his desk. “It’s fine,” she says absently, coming to a stop in front of Barry’s full-to-overflowing bookcase. “I could never get away with my room being this messy,” she comments idly, eyes tracing the well-loved spines of Barry’s _Lord of the Rings_ set.

 

Barry hums noncommittally, keeping himself from answering beyond that but adding her words to the part of his brain that’s already analyzing the Lisa Snart Puzzle, as he's started calling it.

 

Lisa shakes herself out of her daze just as Barry starts contemplating whether or not he should say anything, and she smirks at Barry, eyes clearing.

 

“So,” she drawls, plopping herself down on a corner of Barry’s unmade bed without invitation, “you skipped up a grade? I’m impressed, kid—though it _does_ explain the physique, just a little. Maybe there’s hope for you, yet.”

 

Barry feels his face flush hotly, though he tries to ignore it. “It runs in the family, apparently,” he mutters. He winces when his brain catches up with his words, waiting for the inevitable questions.

 

Lisa, taking him by surprise yet again, only nods consideringly, eyes flicking up to Barry only briefly before she drops them to her backpack. “So… homework?” she asks reluctantly, and her nose wrinkles in distaste.

 

Barry can feel his own nose wrinkling, but he sighs, dropping down on the bed next to Lisa. “You don’t happen to know anything about iambic pentameter, do you?” he asks, not really expecting an answer as he digs for his English assignment in his mess of a backpack.

 

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” Lisa says instead of answering, and Barry groans out a laugh.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes, and you just volunteered your help,” he informs her cheerily, exhaling in triumph when he finally finds his crumpled-looking assignment.

 

Lisa sighs exasperatedly, but her eyes are sparkling when Barry peeks up at her. “Give it here, pipsqueak,” she orders, holding out a hand for the paper. “What’ve we got?”

 

-x-

 

They’ve finally gotten through the poetry assignment, and Barry’s been patiently coaching Lisa through the differences between sine and cosine (and part of him is absurdly proud that he can, and that Lisa’s understanding, slowly but surely, because he knows he’s smart, okay, but there’s a difference between knowing and _knowing_ ), when a whirlwind of long dark hair and brightly colored clothes and laughter in the form of one Iris West tears through Barry’s open door.

 

“Is it true?” Iris demands, and then continues without waiting for an answer: “Did you _really_ get in a fight with a bunch of seniors on your _first day_? And you got _suspended_?”

 

Barry sighs, slumping back against the headboard. “Yup,” he says, rubbing at the butterfly bandages above his eyebrow. Iris whistles lowly, looking impressed.

 

“I bet Dad is _so_ _pissed_ ,” she says with a laugh in her voice, and Barry glares at her good humor, sticking his tongue out in response.

 

“Mature, kid, really,” Lisa drawls, eyes keen and narrowed between Barry and Iris. Iris’s attention snaps to the bed’s other seated occupant, and her eyes imitate Lisa’s, narrowing in suspicion.

 

“Who’re _you_?” she asks rudely.

 

Lisa’s brow raises briefly before she settles into a smirk that’s already familiar to Barry. “I’m the gal that saved this tiny twerp from getting his ass beat by the star douchebags of the football team,” she informs Iris coolly, who blinks in surprise. “How ’bout you?”

 

Iris draws in a breath to respond, and Barry breaks in hurriedly. “Uh, Iris, this is Lisa,” he says, “and she totally saved my butt, she’s right.” He smiles briefly at Lisa, who quirks an eyebrow back at him but stays silent. “Lisa, this is my best friend Iris. She’s Joe’s daughter.”

 

“The resemblance is uncanny,” Lisa mutters, and Iris stares for a beat longer before smiling, albeit hesitantly.

 

“You really helped him?” she queries, and when Lisa nods, all the breath leaves Iris in a big _whoosh_. “Thank God he’s got someone to look out for him, then.”

 

“Hey!” Barry protests.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m _right here_ ,” Barry says pointedly, but he can’t help the grin twisting his lips up. Iris laughs, and even Lisa looks amused.

 

“Yes, and when you finally stop picking fights with people who can probably squash you like a bug, then I’ll stop worrying,” Iris says, crossing her arms and leaning against the door jamb.

 

“I didn’t start _this_ one!”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Iris says, waving a hand dismissively. She takes in the books and papers strewn between Barry and Lisa, and shakes her head in disgust. “Have fun with all that,” she says, “I’m gonna go watch some TV.” She twirls out of Barry’s room, waving briefly at Lisa.

 

“Rude!” Barry calls out after her, and Iris’s trilling laughter is his only response.

 

There’s silence between them for a few long minutes, and then Lisa clears her throat quietly. “So that’s… your foster sister?”

 

Barry grimaces, scratching at the back of his head. “Best friend,” he corrects. “Though, I mean… technically, yeah. If you want to look at it that way.” He purses his lips together—he does _not_ want to look at it that way.

 

Lisa stares with that penetrating gaze of hers, then abruptly drops her eyes and straightens, gesturing to her open trig book. “So, the adjacent is the side always next to the angle?”

 

Barry smiles gratefully and pulls the book closer, eager to explain.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No guarantees that the next chapter won't take - holy cheese, _fifteen months_ \- but... I promise I'll try?
> 
> Love you all! <33

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on [tumblr](http://that-pumpkinspicewhitegirl.tumblr.com)!


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